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Talk:The random post-y page/@comment-99.244.161.132-20120527223659
Matryoshka (probably my longest story yet): As a child, I'd loved to dance. To watch others dance, flying gracefully across the stage... I had loved dancing. But too much of a good thing makes it bad. I had just turned sixteen when I returned to dancing. My mother had been pushing me to find my passion, and start thinking about my future, my job. For a second, I hadn't an ida what to answer. Then I looked back on my past, and saw the adorable four year old me, dancing in a puffy, oversized tutu. I hadn't danced in eight years. My last performance had been when I was in the third grade. But my studies got in the way, so I was forced to quit. Looking back on the past, I remembered how much I enjoyed dancing. Maybe I could give it another try... I look up from my mountain of homework. I can barely see mom's face over it. "Dancing." I replied. "I want to go back into dancing." My mother cocks her head. "Dancing, Yumi-chan?" She looks at the wall of photos, all framed with swirly fake gold designs. "God, it's been forever since you did that..." She paused before adding "Are you sure?" I nod. "Very sure. Dancing is my passion. And I thought that if I enjoy it so much and want to incorporate it into my work, now would be the best time to get back on it." Mom frowns. "But what about money? Dancing is an expensive thing and doesn't pay well. If you aren't a prima then--" "Mom, seriously. It's fine. I'll think about that later. For now, I just want to go back to dancing." She sighs. "Alright then..." And then I'm reaching across the table to hug her, knocking books over and onto the floor. "Yes! Thank you momm-eeeeeee!" I squeal. She pats my head. "You're welcome, Yumi..." ------------------------------------------------------------ And now here I am. The ballet school is huge compared to most buildings in town, towering above them. It's almost intimidating. The inside isn't any better. The floors are polished mohagny, or so it looks to be. I don't know a thing about fancy wood floors. There are these matching little side tables here and there, with lace doyllies and vases of red roses. The place has a sophistocated air to it. A place I don't belong. Of course, I wouldn't know the truth of these words until later. I adjust my shoulder-strap anxious, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. Left to right, right to left, and back again. "Are you sure you'll be okay?" mom asks, putting a hand on my shaking shoulder. She can sense when I'm uncomfortable. Or maybe everyone could. I tend to be an open book, terrible at keeping things inside. I nod. "I'm fine, Mom, you can quit worrying." "You don't want me to sign you in?" "I'm fine." I repeat, icily. "I'm not four anymore, I can sign myself in." She says no more, simply walking out. I stamp my foot as soon as she's exited. "Way to go, Mayumi. You just made your mother cry." Another hand taps my shoulder. "Um, excuse me, Miss? Are you okay?" I look up. A girl, with long blonde hair, is standing behind me. She pushes her glasses up her nose. I flush. "Oh, sorry." I say, sheepishly. "Yes, I'm fine." "Are you new here?" she asks, curiously. "I've never seen your face around here before." "Actually I am." I reply. "Mayumi Hanatobo, the new student." She grins. "Oh, that's why. I would've recognized your face if you had come here before." She bows, curtiously. I resist the urge to laugh. What an old fashioned gesture. "It's very nice to meet you, Hanatobo-san. My name is Haruka Kime." I'm stunned for a second by the formality. This really is an upper-class place. I don't belong here. Then I realize I'm meant to return the gesture. I then sink to my knees, in somewhat awkward fashion and bow. "It's okay, yo can call me Mayumi, or just Yumi-chan. Can I call you Ruka?" Haruka looks slightly taken aback before saying "Um...sure...So, do you need to sign in?" I facepalm. "Oh crap, I nearly forgot!" I rush towards the desk at the far end of the lobby, scribbling in my name and the time of my arrival. Haruka giggles from behind me. "Y'know, you're very funny." I look up. "Am I? Maybe I'm not used to such a fancy place..." She laughs. "Neither was I. I lived in such a low-class neighbourhood for sixteen years and I didn't--" "Ruka, you're only sixteen?" I gasp. She nods. "Well, seventeen actually. I moved here at sixteen, and have been at this school for a year." "I could've sworn you were nineteen! You're so tall! And look at your figure!" She covers her chest area, slightly embarassed. "Everyone comments on that. They think I'm in college when I'm just finishing high school..." She pauses before adding "Why are we talking about my figure when we should be in class?" "Oh, right! I'm so forgetful!" I feel like facepalming again, but Haruka catches my hand and pulls me towards the door. It's so beautiful, it feels like flying. Her legs are so long, and her strides are so graceful. Will I be lik that when I've been dancing for a year? And then we're inside. There are other girls there, eyeing us with distain and disgust. They were so pretty...All lined up in a perfect row. All but one, a girl sitting in a corner. Wonder what's up with that...? A tight lipped woman stood at the front of the room, tapping a pen on a clipboard, impatiently. "Kime-san, you're three minutes late." Haruka bows again, pushing her glasses up again. "Very sorry,Yoshikawa-dono. I was helping Hanatobo-san outside and--" "Enough." Yoshikawa pursed her lips. "So this is the new blood? Mayumi Hanatobo-kohai?" I nod. "Yes, senpai..." She pokes me with a long stick. "A bit too chubby...But you'll have to do." I frown, but keep quiet. Part of being a ballerina is being disciplined. Yoshikawa then flips out to a new page on her clipboard. "Attendance please, in alphabetical order." The girls begin listing off their names. Meanwhile, I was watching the girl in the corner. Strange...She was bent over something. Her body was shaking, convulsing with...laughter? What was her deal? "Hanatobo-san?" The instructor's voice breaks her train of thought. "Oh! Sorry. Yes, present, sensei!" She raised an eyebrow and writes something down on her clipboard. "Okay then...That's everyone..." I raise my hand. "But sensei! What about her?" I point to the girl in the corner, quietly laughing. Everyone stares at me in shock. And its silent for a minute. "Moving on." Yoshikawa continues. "But you didn't answe--" Haruka puts a hand over my mouth. "Not now." she breaths. The rest of the day moves on in a blur. Girls whizz past me, as if the whole world has been sped up. Before I know it, I'm out the door, not knowing how I got there. I had spent the whole class watching the unnamed girl. "So, how was your first day?" Haruka asks. "Yoshikawa-dono can be a bit... difficult to like at times but--" I interrupt her, answering her question with one of my own. "Who was that girl in the corner? The one laughing?" My friend's eyes took on a dark look. "She's a student. We don't talk about her. No one ever comes to pick her up. She seems to live in the dance studio. Older students told me she used to dance. But not anymore. She just spends classes like that. Laughing in that corner." "What's her name?" I press. Something about this girl intrigues me. Haruka's voice drops to a whisper. "Her name is Kii, I don't know her last name. I don't even know if that's her real name. Or if she has a name. Why are you so interested in this girl?" I shrug. "It's best if you stay away from her, Mayumi-san. She's not quite right." ---------------------------------------------------- Maybe I should've listened. Maybe I should have valued my sanity. But I didn't, stupid girl that I was. It's a few days after. Things are looking up for me. I'm getting better at dancing. Yoshikawa doesn't insult me as much. I've even met a boy who actually likes me. But I'm throwing that all away. I'm running, running as fast as I can, to the dance studio. Yoshikawa is surprised to see me so early. "Why do you seem so excited?" she asks, suspicious. "I..." I pause. Fudge, I hadn't thought that far ahead. "I wanted to practise early. My performing test is next week, isn't it?" I'm desperate now, grasping at threads. "Okay then..." she says, giving me another look. She gets up from her chair. "I'll be right back." I nod, vigorously. The door slams shut behind her. As soon as she's out of th room, I'm against the far wall. The girl is still there, obsecured by a potted plant. Laughing. I dance my way over to her and tap her shoulder, in a similar way to how Haruka had. "Excuse me? You're Kii-chan, right?" She turns to me and I have to keep myself from screaming. Her face is covered in makeup, a ballerina's ruined stage makeup. Her face is gaunt and pale, almost stark white, like a skull with black markings throughout. Black markings across the bridge of her nose and under her eyes. Those green eyes...No, not green exactly. Many rings of many irises, all different shades of green and blue. It's scary. She grins, revealing a set of crooked teeth. "Ahahaha...Aha...That message...It reached someone finally..." she laughs. "You're Kii?" I ask. "You're...are...were...a dancer here?" "Are, were, am...There's no difference. It's all the same really...Just a game...Ahaha..." I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck, standing on end. This girl is scary. "I wanted to know...Why are you like this? I'm interested. You could call it worried, maybe. What are you doing over here? What made you like this?" I ask, continueing despite my fear. "Made me?" she chuckles. "Certainly I've always been this way...A patched-up, crazy Matryoshka..." "Ma-Matryoshka..." I echo in surprise. She nods, pulling a small doll from the pocket of her green jacket. A Russian nesting doll, just like her. A Matryoshka. "It's me. Matryoshka's have many layers of insanity, bottled up inside." She pokes the space above my heart, in between my flat breasts. I yelp. "You're a Matryoshka too, y'know...Haha...Ha...Aha..." "How...do you become a Matryoshka?" I ask, rephrasing my previous question. "How do you become like... you?" "I broke." she says, pointing to the chip across the doll's face. Identical to the scar across her face. "How?" I ask. "They told me to dance. 'Dance more and more' they said. And my world turned upside down." I back away. She laughs. "Don't you want to know how the story ends? How I really became who I am today?" "No... thank you. I know enough..." "You don't even know half of it, Mayumi Hanatobo-san. You're a Matryoshka too. We all are. You just have to find the right way to unleash it." She wheezes with laughter. She flips her blue hair over one shoulder and continues giggling. "Hahaha...aha...hahahaha..." That's the last thing I see before I black out. --------------------------------------------------- The next morning, I wake up on the studio floor. I sit bolt upright, my memories returning to me, hitting me in the face. How long have I been out? What did Kii do to me? Why-- My questions are answered as I look in the mirror. My hair, sloppily spray-painted a bright green. My skin, the same pale white as hers. My facial tattoos, under my eyes and on my nose, slightly different than hers. I'm striped of my ballet clothes. A pair f new ones sits next to my white body. In my hand rests a doll. Exactly like the new me. And...oh...On my face is a scar, like a zipper, just below my bottom lip. The same scar that mars my doll's face. I can hear her laughing somewhere. I whip around. "Kii? Kii, what the hell did you do to me?" "I made you look the part. Today's the day I show you the secret. Don't tell anyone, but your world will turn upside down...Ahaha...Haaaa..." She laughs, somewhere outside of my line of vision. "Yeah, yeah, I know. How long have I been out?" I ask, still searching for her. She suddenly swings down, her blue pigtails dangling in my face. She's hanging from one of the crumbling beams on the ceiling. "It's been exactly a week. Today is your big test. No one has seen your body. No one knows what happened to you." I gulp. She brings down one leg, then the other. She touches my chin. "Don't be nervous. What's wrong?" "You're going to make me like you...Insane..." I whimper. She grins in a crooked fashion. "I don't suffer from insanity. I enjoy it. Haha..." "That's crazy." "We already knew that, Mayumi." she smiles, tracing her finger across my scar. I wince. "Now get ready. It's your moment." The door swings open. And there's everyone else. Yoshikawa-sensei, Haruka, and ll my other classmates who I never got to know. All staring at me, like the freak I am. Haruka gasps. "Yumi-chan..." I laugh sheepishly. Laughing. It sounds wrong now. There's a strange edge to it. Something crazy about it... "Ohaio..." I manage. "Ohaio, Hanatobo-kohai. What happened to your--" "Long story." I interrupt my instructor. "So, today is my performing test?" She nods. "Excited, aren't you. Have you been practising? I haven't seen you all week. I hope you haven't been staying home to play those wretched video games of yours, Pokemon and all that." I shake my head. "No, sensei. I've been practising." "Good." she says curtly, flipping to a new page in her ever-present clipboard. "If you're so eager to perform, you may go first." "Which dance?" I ask. "We've done quite a few these past weeks. Kalinka, Malinka, Kreouid, Freouid, Parade, Marade..." She lists them off on her fingers. "I was only here for the first two." I explain. "Fine then." she says, excusing me. "Kalinka or Malinka." "The first one." I choose. She nods. "Then dance." The words echo eerily in my head. It's not Yoshikawa's voice speaking, but Kii's. The exact words Kii spoke last week. The story of how she broke. 'Dance more and more' 'Dance more and more' 'Dance more and more' ... 'And it broke me.' -------------------------------------------------------- Now two figures sit huddled in a corner. Both of them aren't normal. Neither of them are sane. But the two of them enjoy it. Her and Me. We are Matryoshkas. Catch me as I burst out. We are all Matryoshkas. ...And you are too.